


The One Left Behind

by MidfelMystery



Category: Bug Fables (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Identity Issues, Introspection, POV Second Person, Stream of Consciousness, minor spoiler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22120543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidfelMystery/pseuds/MidfelMystery
Summary: Leif ponders about his rescue, about the ones who saved him, and about what happened to himself.Why does something feel off though?
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	The One Left Behind

You follow your new companions around, at first much too closely. Having suddenly been thrust into the waking world, stiff and unbalanced, motivates you to follow their footsteps. To be protected by these explorers. You pay little attention to your surroundings, ignoring the drips of the cavern and rushing of the current. You focus solely on the bee and beetle that have saved you. 

Admittedly, such a focus opened an opportunity for an enemy in disguise. At the yell of the beetle, you whip your head around to see a hovering mushroom ready to strike before you feel coldness writhe through your body. It bursts out instinctively, freezing the creature where it flew. 

Huh. Interesting. 

Either way. You can control frost, so you can fight. Protect yourself, as well as aid the ones who had saved you. It’s the least you could do. 

They said they found you sleeping. You don’t recall sleeping, especially in the midst of the threat of being eaten. Nor do you have any recollection of what could’ve awoken any latent magic in yourself. A second metamorphosis perhaps?

You’re lucky to be alive.

Onward you move, felling creatures and being creative with your newfound spells. Flexing muscles that haven’t been flexed in quite a while. Or new muscles, considering the newfound ice magic. You freeze water droplets and chill foes. The magic swirls around you when summoned, bobbing and weaving and turning everything a light blue in its sharp glow. 

You’re hungry, so hungry. The scant crunchy leaves and honey drops eaten along the way do little for your ever increasing appetite. Once you get out you can reunite with your wife. Make a lovely dinner for yourselves and reconnect. She must be so worried about you, as you are her. Thinking of her just makes you hungrier. You try to focus your hearing on the soft clicking of the group’s footsteps, rather than your growling stomach.

The ones who saved you, Vi and Kabbu, are okay. Friendly in their own ways. They’re easy to banter with at least. Words are their own form of magic after all. Used correctly and you can either build people up or tear them down. Or just lighten the mood. 

Something about this place makes you internally squirm. You chalk it up to that accursed spider. Part of you hopes you run into it again. You’d have great enjoyment for making it suffer for taking you, and most likely countless others, as dinner. 

With the switches pulled, and the large door opened, you hope that this dungeon ceases soon. You’re so weary it feels as if you haven’t walked for ages. You feel so dry, and slightly numb. Yet you’re almost there, there’s a long pathway, banked by water, leading to some sort of mask on a pedestal. Obviously that treasure that the others were searching for.

You walk down the pathway, focused, before glancing at the water. With a silent gasp, you stop as you see… yourself?

The wrongness creeps up your body, chilling you to your core. Like ice. Like the magic you control now. You stiffen. Frozen. Staring at a frosted mirror image in all but color. 

You’re so pale. So blue, even without using your newfound magic. You bring a claw to your eye, forcing yourself to look. It’s just as pale as the reflection. You drop your trembling arm to your side. Your wings, a richer blue as well, instinctively hug your body tight. It can’t be you, yet it is, somehow. Will the others recognize you? Do you even recognize yourself?

No. ...No. 

You have to be strong. With the end goal, or at least theirs, so close in sight, the exit must not be far behind. Now is not the time nor the place to worry. Now is not the time to fall apart. 

Your eyes sting but you don’t cry. What kind of tears they would be don’t matter. Your eyes stay perfectly dry as you catch up to the others by a few steps. The dripping of the cave helps you focus your uneven breathing, and hides your scurrying to catch up to their quickening footsteps. 

You can worry about the extent of how you changed when you’re out of the cave. Free to question and explore yourself with your wife as support. Whether you’ve been tainted by the magic coursing through your body, or something else, you can rely on your team to help you solve this mystery. Later though. When you’re safe. 

You take this resolve and move forward with cool, collected confidence. You’re ready for anything. 

You cannot wait to go home. 

**Author's Note:**

> According to the Bug Fables art book, Leif used to be a red moth before the whole ice magic and other stuff happened. I figure it's just not mentioned in-game because after Snakemouth, Leif is dealing with so much more than a color crisis.


End file.
